Alone on Christmas
by IrishNun
Summary: Demons, ghosts and nightmares force Sam to run away from home which means, this year, he'll be alone for Christmas. Teen-chest. Two shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Alone on Christmas

**Summary:** Demons, ghosts and nightmares force Sam to run away from home which means, this year, he'll be alone for Christmas. Teen-chest. Two shot.

*SN*SN*

Candy canes hung from the end of the branches on the tall brightly lit evergreen. Red and green stockings hung from the lip of the mantelpiece. A bowl full of shiny covered sweets sat in the middle of the coffee table. A small girl playfully ran into the room and sat at the kitchen table. A father and son soon followed. Both were smiling happily and sat down beside her.

Sam Winchester watched them from outside the living room window. He should have been looking at the cookies on the table. He hadn't eaten anything substantial in nearly two days. He should have been looking at the warm yellow fire. The Michigan air was bitterly cold. Sam pulled the collar of this jacket around his neck and coughed some hot air into his numb fingers. He should have been looking at these things but he wasn't. Instead, he was watching the children's mother. She carried a plate of food over to the table, kissed her children on the tops of their head and smiled lovingly at her husband. Her love for them wasn't what Sam noticed. It wasn't even her blonde hair, her clothes or the fact that she resembled his mother. The woman turned sharply forcing Sam to gasp in fear. Her eyes! "No," he whispered shaking his head. "No," he slipped on the ice as he ran away from the window. Her eyes glowed yellow just like in his dreams.

*SN*SN*

An inch of snow quickly turned into a foot and two feet had fallen by the time the church clock chimed eleven. Sam shook the snowflakes from his hair as he rounded the corner turning his back on the harsh icy winds. His thighs ached as lifting his feet over the snow became tougher. He stuffed his numb fingers into his armpits as it was the only part of his body that hadn't succumbed to the cold Michigan air. Christmas Eve wasn't turning out as good as he hoped for. Every year he wished for the same thing. A day with no ghosts or demons. A day like of those children he saw earlier. A day of normality. He realised his family didn't come under the traditional definition of a normal family but he missed having those few hours, after his father passed out, with his brother telling him stories of their mother. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, tales of protective angels and Beatles tunes were the only memories Dean could share. But they were all Sam needed.

Sitting behind the couch or crawling under the table, they would hide from their father's prying eyes. Dean began every story with a smile and an "I remember when". Sam would like belly down, hold his head in his hands and listen to his every word. But things changes after he discovered the truth. They grew too tall for their hiding places and the stories became more infrequent. Growing up without a mother never bothered Sam. He had Dean. Every night, he would be tucked in and whispered to by his big brother. He never got to experience motherly love but he guessed his brother's love was pretty damn close.

*SN*SN*

Sam's back crashed into the solid brick wall causing the pain to vibrate throughout his body. The last bit of energy was slowly dissipating out of his body. He needed food before his body slipped into sleep. Suddenly, his ears cocked to the soft whispers of music. Voices, although faint, could be heard dancing with the wind. He shook his head assuming he was dreaming but he could still hear them. All around him were closed shop fronts with everyone home for Christmas. It was after midnight so no one should have been up. Still, he was intrigued and followed the beat.

As he turned the corner, he could feel a warmth. Ahead of him stood a small church. Decorative lights hung over the door and around the windows. Sam kicked this snow caked shoes off each step as he climbed them. His head felt light when he reached his hand out for the door. He staggered inside and faltered to the floor as the voices continued.

_Fall on your knees,_

_O hear the angel voices_

_O night divine..._

*SN*SN*

**AN:** Second part should be up in the New Year. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Thanks to all for reading, reviewing and following. Here's part 2, as promised.

*SN*SN*

*SN*SN*

Four pm Christmas Eve and his fever finally broke. If Dean wasn't afraid of flying monkeys before, he certainly was now. The Patrov demon got her fangs into him two days ago when John hunted her family down one by one. No one knew the demon was poisonous when threatened. John had to ask Bobby and Caleb for help in tracking down a cure.

Nightmares of the worst possible kind and a fever, was the poison. It was enough to knock a grown man to his knees and for a child, it was almost deadly. Dean's body went limp an hour after he was attacked. The blood was drained from his face and his clothes were soaked in sweat. When John finally returned from his hunt, he found Dean on the middle of the bed with Sam in a heap on the floor. John ran to Sam first but later found out that when they were attacked outside, Sam had to carry his brother to the motel. Twenty minutes of carrying dead weight had almost drained him.

Dean tossed and turned all night. The monkeys were after him. They were strong and menacingly stripped their threatening white teeth. No amount of comforting words from his family could protect him from them. They were everywhere. When Dean finally opened his eyes, he was expecting to see his brother. "Sammy," he whispered, his eyes burning under the dim light. "Hey son, I'm here." John placed a damp cloth over his son's forehead. Dean saw his father's smile before he fell back into his dreams again.

It was ten before midnight on Christmas Eve before Dean was able to open his eyes again. He hadn't eaten anything substantial in two days and now he was paying the price. He was starving. He rubbed his eyes and pushed away the cloth that was draped over his head. He saw only his father on the other side of the room but all he heard was whispers. Dean groaned as he tried to sit up but his father quickly came to his side placing a pillow behind his head. "Here," he moved a glass of water over to his son's lips and aided him in taking a few sips. "How are you feeling?" he asked wiping away an escaping drip from his chin. "Terrible." Dean's honesty made his father smile. "Where's Sammy?" his question made the man's smile disappear again. "I think he got infected as well," John squirmed under the pressure of telling him the truth.

"Think..." Dean's eyes narrowed. John looked towards the door and back to his sick son. "He went out for food last night and never came back. I think he treated the demon bit like a snake bit and tried to suck the poison out. It wouldn't have affected him as quickly as it did you but I think the nightmares started when he went out for food."

Dean tried to get out of the bed but he barely had enough strength to raise the blankets off his body. "Why the hell aren't you out looking for him? Don't you care!" he shouted when John tried to push him back into the bed. "Of course I care. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you... either of you. I'd be... nothing. I couldn't leave you here. I sent my best men out to look for him. So, don't you dare tell me I don't care." He stood up and rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn't slept in nearly two days and his eyes were suffering because of it. His cell rang and he leapt towards it. It was Pastor Jim.

*SN*SN*

The Impala skidded on the ice as it pulled up in front of the small church nearly two hours away from the motel. Pastor Jim met him on the steps and they greeted each other with a quick hug. "His fever is still high," Pastor Jim began. "And he keeps asking about Dean." He quickly walked behind the worried father. Midnight mass had been cancelled. The fallen sick child was more important. Pastor Jim had only called to the church a few hours before giving a description of the missing child. When the Reverend saw the child's blonde hair, he knew who to call.

John found his son in a make shift bed in the Christmas crib. Being a small church, there was no back room and the parishioners' benches were too uncomfortable to lie on. So, after some discussion, it was decided to lay him in the stable between the three wise men. John rubbed his hand over his son's forehead waking him up from his deep slumber. "Dean..." he tried to say. "He's okay," John replied. "He's awake... and he's hungry." Sam smiled and tilted his head towards the familiar hand on his cheek. "I see her everywhere," Sam squirmed as his nightmares came back to haunt him. "Who do you see, son?" "Mom," he replied. "But she has yellow glowing eyes..." John turned and gave his friend a worried stare. "Azazel?!"

*SN*SN*

The fever broke just after midday on boxing day. Sam woke with a grumble from his stomach and for a moment he thought he could smell freshly made cookies. "Hey," he heard someone whisper. "Wake up! You're making me look bad." Sam twisted his aching body awake. "If you sleep any longer you'll make my fever look like a messy shower." Sam smiled when he quickly recognised the voice. He opened his eyes to see his brother sitting on the bed next to him. "At least I beat you in the nightmare department. Flying monkeys are much scarier than a yellow eyed mother." Sam quickly looked around the room. Their father was nowhere in sight but the car keys were still on the table so he couldn't have gone far. He looked back to Dean. He was glad to see him better. He wanted to apologise for running away. He didn't plan to. He went out for pizzas and fries like their father had asked but as he reached the motel, it was then that his saw the woman with yellow eyes.

"Not long now, Sammy boy," the woman growled and gave an unfriendly smile. Sam immediately dropped the food and went to run to the door but his way was blocked by another woman and then another. They all looked like his mother and they all had yellow eyes. His heart rate increased and the sweat quickly dropped from his face but wanting to protect his family, he decided to run and hoped they would chase him.

Now, as he lay next to his recovering brother, he wanted to explain his actions. He wanted to say, 'I'm sorry for making you worry', but his voice was so dry, all that came out was "worry." Dean shrugged. "Hey, I'm fine. It'll take a lot more that a little bit of poison to kill this body," he slapped his chest. He looked away not seeing Sam smile. "Hey, um, what you did... you know... sucking out the poison was gross... but, kinda cool... you know? So, thanks." Sam smiled again and decided not to try to speak anymore. Everything was already being said.

Dean reached his hand around his back and pulled back a folded up tea cloth. "I got you this... being Christmas and all... I didn't forget," he began to unfold it. "I was planning to get you something else... like that book you were looking at in the library," he unfolded another corner. "Or that pocket knife you saw in the paper last but..." The last corner revealed the most glorious smell. Sam's neck creaked as he strained forward to get a closer look. Two freshly made cherry and chocolate chip cookies, the size of a closed fist, lay in Dean's hands. "The wife of the motel's owner heard we were sick," Dean told him helping his little brother to sit up. "She gave three yesterday. Dad said his was delicious but I wanted to wait until you got better." He gave his blonde haired friend the first choice. "They're a day old so they might be hard." Sam broke a piece off and forced it in his mouth. He knew their father wouldn't approve. It wasn't the best food to start with after two days of fever. That's why Dean waited to be alone before waking him up. Sam's throat was so dry, the cookies scratched along the sides but he didn't care.

Dean chose him over food and for Sam that was monumental.

*SN*SN*SN*


End file.
